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The Wrens before/after The wrens were twittering their high pitched rapid fire tweets that usually means danger. I charged outside, and saw two mated pairs dive-bombing a hapless squirrel. My guess is he must have found one pair's nest, and violated it somehow. Its much too late for eggs. I've had a good relationship with the wrens. I;ve been blowing them little kisses, and they flit about, cocking their heads to the side, listening, as if trying to figure out what I'm communicating. I've been trying to think of ways to get them to eat out of my hand, but haven't hit on the right idea. I always answer their plaintive cries. Earlier in the summer, a very large bluejay was trying to brute his way into the birdhouse and steal some eggs. Repetitively I came out of the house to scare him away, thuggish bastard. I realize he's only following his own instinctive protocol, but my instinctive protocol seems to be an opposition to bullies of all sorts. And I like the wrens. I had planned on killing the bluejay. He bothered me that badly, because he bothered not only the wrens, trying to prey upon their young, he also went wholesale after the yellow finches and hummingbirds, and it pissed me off. I walked around saying things about "regieme change" in the yard. What the hell, it worked for Bush. But I never felt entirely right about it. And eventually my persistence paid off, and the bluejay left. I thought he had succeeded in his predatorial duties, but apparently not. Because as I pounded out of the house, clapping my hands loudly, scaring off another animal that had made the mistake of crossing my wrens, I saw two mated pairs. The squrriel skittered off, still being dive-bombed by the mated pairs. I looked around to see the family next door watching me. I don't think they understand me, or the things I do whatsoever. But I don't really care. It just is.
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